No More Tombstones
by Schadenfraude
Summary: The girl fought for what she believed to be right. The mercenary wanted to be king by any means necessary. Theirs is an strange love. For SpeedDemon315's challenge.
1. Chapter 1

This is for the Fire Emblem & The Sacred Stones Challenge by SpeedDemon315 which happens to focus on noncanon pairings. If you wanna try the challenge yourself or if you want more info, visit SpeedDemon315's profile or go to the Fire Emblem Writer's Guild in the FE forums and check out the topic there.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Fire Emblem. Only a poor, misguided soul would think I did.

**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

It had all began with a brief glance and a simple conversation.

Her palms were slick with sweat. She had to hold her lance tightly to keep a good grip. Her blonde bangs flew in front of her eyes, but otherwise, she had a clear view of the battlefield. There was no one in front of her; this was the frontline. She never imagined that she would be here. Was it true that they put recruits in the frontline so they could be used as meat shields? She tried not to think about it.

Amelia wasn't sure why she tried to strike up a conversation with him, of all people. With his large, muscular frame he was easily a foot and a half taller than her. His fingers tapped erratically on the blade of his axe as though he couldn't wait to swing it. With the dark circles under his eyes, he looked like a man who would sooner forgo his sleep than miss a battle. Truth be told, she'd run if she ever met him in a dark alley.

Glancing nervously at him, she tried to make small talk, if only to lift the silence that weighed so heavily on her nerves. "H-hello," she stammered. "I'm Amelia."

The man ignored her. His red hair was swept back and she could clearly see that his eyes were trained on the horizon. From the top of the hill where they stood, they could see wide, rolling plains that stretched until they hit the forest. The enemy had yet to appear, but she imagined the red-haired man springing alive as soon as they came into sight.

Why was she talking to a man whose neck was as thick as her waist? Maybe it was because he happened to be standing beside her. Perhaps this was what they meant when they spoke of friendships forged on the battlefield though she didn't seem to be making much progress.

"Well, good luck," Amelia mumbled to her feet. It didn't seem likely that he would talk to her.

"About time."

She glanced up at the man next to her. With a grin that bared his yellowed canines, he was still staring into the horizon. He spoke again though it appeared the audience was no one in particular. "Let's look alive. They're coming."

There, in the horizon, was the opposing army. Slowly, they emerged from the forest, stepping out from between the trees. First, it was the foot soldiers who appeared. Then the calvary appeared as well, flanking them. They marched on and still there were more who exited the forest. The Grado army was huge in its own right, but there appeared to be no end to the Renais army's numbers.

"There's so many of them," said Amelia quietly. "I wish there were fewer."

The red-haired man looked down at her. With a grin, he said, "Where's the fun in that?"

Amelia gave a start at the sight of his eyes looking into hers. Just as she was about to ask him what he meant, the soldiers who hadn't done so already started to unsheathe their weapons.

Everyone seemed quieter. Amelia had the sneaking suspicion that there was no one in their army who wasn't holding their breath. They were all statues waiting until the moment of battle to breathe. As soon as it started, they would be using every muscle in their bodies to fight and stay alive.

The commander stood at the head of the army. He turned to face the soldiers. "We'll wait until they've all left the forest. We have the higher numbers so it will be easier for us to overwhelm them in the plains. Fight hard for the glory of Grado!"

The red-haired man snorted. Immediately, the commander turned towards him. The collective eye of the army was on them. Everyone was waiting to see what would happen. Amelia could've sworn that the commander looked ready to spear the red-haired man right there and then. "Are there any problems?" he asked.

Amelia could see that the red-haired man was smiling. "No problems," he said. He didn't sound very sincere.

"A mercenary has to follow orders to get paid, Caellach," said the commander. He didn't return the smile.

The red-haired man replied, "Yes sir." He gave an exaggerated salute, grinning as he lifted his hand to his forehead.

From his furrowed brow, Amelia thought the commander would start yelling, but he didn't. Giving Caellach one last glare, he turned to watch the horizon. It wasn't too long before the trickle of enemy soldiers from the forest stopped.

This was it. Amelia could feel her feet tensing. The battle was about to start. The eye of the storm was here. Unnerving silence was hanging in the air. Behind her, Amelia could hear someone gulp. Another person was murmuring what sounded like a last-minute prayer.

After what seemed like a long time, the commander screamed, "Charge!"

Immediately, the army responded. The floodgates to their energy had been thrown wide open and they surged down the hill and towards the plains. Amelia didn't feel like she was moving of her own accord. She had fallen back from the frontline. The current of raised weapons and battle cries carried her along.

Through the gaps between the soldiers in front of her, Amelia watched the enemy grow in size as the two armies charged towards one another like magnets attracted by some unseen force. She braced for the impact of the two armies meeting as though she would feel the first strike with her own body.

A clang resonated in the air. Peering through the sea of bodies, Amelia spotted the red-haired man already locked in combat with an enemy soldier. Before long, cries rent the air and it seemed like everyone was already fighting.

Except for her.

Amelia stood there amidst the jostling bodies and flashing metal. Somehow, she wound up completely ignored as she swung her head side to side, trying to follow flashes of movement that ended in red. Should she finish the archer who has already been wounded in the leg or should she fight the swordsman whose back was turned to her?

Heart thumping, she tried to steady her lance arm as she aimed for an enemy soldier's throat. If she struck true, he wouldn't have the time to scream before her lance went through his neck. Her grip tightened. It was better that way.

Suddenly, his head fell to the ground and a stump was left of his neck. His body, freed of a human face, seemed like a strange monster as it flopped to the ground. It was the red-haired man, Caellach, standing behind the headless corpse with his axe. His grinning face was flecked with blood.

It wasn't before she was left alone in a field of corpses that Amelia realized the Grado army, her army, was gaining ground. Bodies littered the ground and she could scarce move for stepping on the dead. This was a soldier's lot. Hadn't she know this all along?

Amelia didn't rejoin the battle.

**ooooo**

After the battle, everyone was assembled in the Grado camp. The commander had been killed in battle though no one could say they saw who did it. The announcement was given by the vice-commander who was now promoted into the commander. After the assembly, everyone dispersed to go to a nearby town for a few drinks or sit around the fire and boast of their conquests.

It bothered her. Amelia thought that people would care. She wasn't expecting tears, but she saw people yawning through the announcement. Did the dead warrant so little sympathy?

With the free time after the battle, Amelia decided to return to the battlefield. It was a strange thing to do, but she felt she had a purpose for returning.

When she arrived, the air was rank with the smell of blood. Covering her nose with her hand did little to stay the stench. She could've sworn blood-mist was getting into her eyes and making them squint with discomfort.

Crows had already flocked to feast on the fruit of man's discord. Some circled the sky before picking their meal. Some were already devouring their share. They strutted about with bloated bellies, drunk on metallic wine and cavorting as the masters in a land of dead men. Faceless corpses were stripped of red, steaming meat. Amelia was glad that she hadn't eaten a lot before coming. Suddenly, a voice shouted out.

"I'm not dead yet, punk!"

Loud, frenzied cawing burst through the air. Crows flew into the sky. They cawed indignantly at being robbed of a meal.

"Too bad! I don't die easily, you damn crows!"

Amelia ran over to the bushes where she had heard the voice. Stepping around the leafy foliage, she spotted Caellach sitting on the ground.

The man scoffed at the cawing crows. "Yeah? Well, this is what I think of you!"

Pointing both his arms up towards the sky, he proudly displayed his middle fingers for the world to see. The crows, probably discouraged by the fact that their supposed meal was still alive and kicking, flew off in search of something that couldn't bite back.

"That's right!" jeered the red-haired man. "No crow is getting their dirty claws on me!"

Amelia stood there, surprised. Blood gushed between his fingers where he held his stomach. He appeared to have suffered a good hit to the head as well seeing how the red liquid dripped down his temple to his chin in a crusted river. Despite his injuries, Caellach managed to pick up a stone and hurl it at the birds. It hit one square in its back and sent it careening to the ground in a rain of black feathers.

The red-haired man started muttering to himself, "I get knocked out and left for dead, then I wake up to crows pulling at my limbs. Not my finest moment."

Amelia tentatively tapped him on the shoulder. When he turned to look at her, she said, "Excuse me, but, um, I have some vulneraries here."

When the red-haired man noticed her, the first thing he did was stare at her legs. Amelia immediately blushed and wished her skirt wasn't so short. Caellach whistled appreciatively. "Man, those Renais scum must'a got me good. You are one _fine_ angel."

The blonde girl was taken back. He was possibly dying of blood loss and his priority was to hit on her?

"I... I'm trying to help..."

"Just let me look at you. The pain's going away already."

At that moment, the wind picked up. Amelia fumbled with the hem of her skirt before she managed to pin it down.

Caellach grinned. "Nice view."

A vulnerary flew through the air and made a bullseye out of his forehead before landing in the grass. He chuckled and uncorked it. "No need to get violent, sweetcheeks. That's no way to treat the injured."

Amelia huffed. "You don't act very injured."

"It's a gift," he said. He looked at her face. "You the new kid who introduced herself? Guess I'll return the favour. I'm Caellach. You're Amanda or somethin' like that."

"Amelia."

"Close enough." Without any warning, Caellach pulled his shirt off. Even with the bruises lining his body and the gash on his stomach, Amelia could tell he had impressive muscles.

Catching her eye, Caellach flexed his arm and winked. "Who's peeping now?" he said suggestively.

Amelia looked away, blushing. She could've sworn it was a rule somewhere that injured men shouldn't be so cocky.

Suddenly, Caellach hissed in pain. Gingerly running his hand over his stomach, he dumped the vulnerary's contents onto his open wound and grimaced at the burning sensation.

Amelia kneeled on the ground to help him. "You need to pour it slowly," she explained. "Here, let me do it."

Caellach quirked an eyebrow when she took her last vulnerary and started tending to his wound herself. "Your mother never told you not to talk to strange men?"

"She told me to give help to people who needed it."

He snorted. "How cute."

Amelia looked up into his face but didn't say anything. Were all mercenaries so ungrateful?

For a while, neither spoke. The only sound was of the cawing crows who had found the feast. Squawking as they quarreled even though there was enough to feed the world's crows, they rasped at one another like greedy men. Suddenly, their caws faded away as footsteps were heard.

Noticing how the footsteps became louder, Amelia crawled to the bushes and peered in between the leaves. She saw four men, each dirtier than the last. They laughed as one of them rolled over a corpse with a kick.

"Lookit this one!" he said. "It's got no head!"

Stumbling about, they grabbed onto one another for support as they laughed uncontrollably at the sight of a headless man. Before long, they were traipsing around the battlefield and mocking the dead.

"I found a leg! Think there's someone out there who has to piss on one leg?"

"Hey, there's a head here! Let's have a game of ball!"

"You think whoever's missing this arm will mind if I use it as a back scratcher?"

Amelia watched as they went on with their swaggering and jeering. Noting the axes and swords at their hips, she bit her lip. If these men found them, she and Caellach wouldn't be able to run away, not with his injuries.

"Run."

Amelia turned to Caellach. "What?"

"Run," he repeated. The effort made him grunt but he managed to get to his knees. "You'll get in the way."

"What are you doing?"

Caellach grabbed his axe. Amelia rushed over and tried to stop him but he pushed her away. Wincing as he got to his feet, he said, "Go while the going's good. These bastards will find me sooner or later." Holding one hand to his stomach, he staggered forward from behind the bushes.

Amelia, still hidden by the leaves, heard the four men approach, boots squelching in bloody mud.

"Hey! This one's still up and about! How about we fix that, hm?"

"The only thing getting fixed is your ugly face," retorted Caellach. He gestured at them with his axe. The four men took one look at him and laughed.

Amelia grabbed a lance from the ground only to curse her luck; the spear head was broken. Quickly, she got down on the ground and grabbed another but it dangled uselessly in two halves. The footsteps became louder.

One of the four men stepped forth. He drew his sword from its sheath.

"Left for dead, huh?" he taunted. "I guess your army didn't bother checking to see if the deadbeats were alive."

"Only deadbeats I see are you four," replied Caellach.

The swordsman spat on the ground. "We'll see if you're still talking after we're done with you."

"I found one!"

All five of the men turned at the unexpected voice of a girl. Amelia held lance that was as thick as her wrist. She had hoped to find a lighter one but she decided it was better than nothing. With a heave, she pulled the steel lance into position and struggled to grip it properly. The spear head wavered in the air and pointed vaguely in the direction of the four intruders.

Caellach frowned at her. "What are you doing here?"

"Helping you," she replied.

"Who asked for your help?"

"You're injured! You can't fight them all off by yourself!"

The four men laughed. The swordsman said, "You should listen to the girl, let her join in on the fun."

Amelia saw Caellach tense his arm as they laughed. He muttered something under his breath. The swordsman held back his laughter for a moment. "What did you say?"

"I said, 'You should duck.' "

The handaxe flew through the air and took his head from his shoulders in one clean blow. He never knew what hit him.

Holding his hand up in the air, Caellach neatly caught the axe as it returned. Beside him, Amelia stared in awe.

The remaining three men drew their weapons, but not before taking a cautionary step back. They narrowed their eyes. Caellach smirked.

"What's wrong?" he said. "Losing your confidence?"

One of the men replied, "It's three against an injured man and a girl, we can take you!"

Suddenly, Caellach rushed forward. Falling back in surprise, his opponent tried to deflect the already-stained axe with his own but Caellach easily stepped around it. The shining axe reflected his grin on its naked blade. The other man fell to the ground with only a few shreds of flesh connecting his torso to his legs. Caellach pulled his axe out of the body.

"Two down."

The remaining two men charged. One pulled ahead of the other and swung his sword in a sweeping horizontal arc. Caellach ducked and kicked the man's legs out from under him. Axe in hand, he cleaved the man's head as easily as a loaf of bread.

The last man faltered. His three companions were all dead on the ground like the many corpses around them. There was nothing standing between him and the red-haired man.

"W-wait," he said, backing up. "We can talk this out, can't we?"

"I'm not a fan of talking," replied Caellach.

He raised his axe but his opponent turned and ran. Sighing, Caellach readied his axe for a throw. "The last one always runs," he muttered. His target stumbled on a corpse just as Caellach pulled his arm back.

Suddenly, Amelia noticed that the fourth man had dropped his weapon. Amelia dropped the lance and grabbed Caellach's arm. "Hold on!" she said. "You don't need to kill him!"

"Hey! Let me go!" Caellach wrenched his arm from her grasp but it was too late. The fourth man was already gone. Caellach sighed. "Damn, he ran fast."

Amelia sighed in relief. There wasn't any need to add any more bodies to the battle field.

Suddenly, Caellach groaned. Wincing, he fell to the ground on his knees. Amelia immediately kneeled beside him. "What's wrong?"

Her eyes trailed down his arm to his stomach where his hand tried to stem the flow of blood. It gushed out in little streams like water flowing from a cracked dam. She quickly pressed her hand over his to put more pressure on the wound. She felt his body struggling to rise and fall, his life's tide ebbing beneath her hand. The blood wasn't stopping.

"Shit," Caellach said through gritted teeth. "Doesn't look good for me."

Amelia pressed harder with her trembling fingers. "It's gotten worse. You shouldn't have fought them."

The red-haired man scoffed. "What do you think I get paid for? It's my job."

Suddenly, Caellach lurched forward. He shuddered before laying one hand on the ground to keep from falling. Sweat was gathering on his brow. Amelia wondered at how he managed to stay conscious.

He was losing a lot of blood. She had to do something. Then she spotted his discarded shirt. Quickly, she grabbed it and started tearing the fabric into strips. Taking them back to Caellach, she removed his hand from the wound and started tying the cloth around his abdomen.

"You realize you're wasting your charity, right?" said Caellach. "A mercenary doesn't stick with an army for long before moving to the one that pays better."

"That doesn't matter."

Suddenly, Amelia became aware that she was in close proximity of a muscular, sweaty and shirtless man. Blushing, she fumbled with the ends of a few cloth strips. His breath, irregular from the blood loss, blew into her hair.

"You're a real bleeding heart, aren't you?" he said, lowering his mouth to her ear.

Amelia tried very hard to focus on his bandages. "I-I'm just trying to help a fellow soldier."

"I told you, I'm a mercenary."

"I told you... it doesn't really matter."

She finished tying the last knot. Caellach grunted and pushed himself to his feet. Swaying slightly, he steadied himself on Amelia's shoulder. "Help me up, will you?"

Amelia complied. Together, with Caellach draping his arm around her, they headed in the direction of the camp, taking care not to trip over any bodies on their way. The crows were back and seemed even more obnoxious than before. Amelia brushed against one that squawked angrily at her as though she had no place on the battlefield.

Caellach glared at the crow and, however coincidental it may have been, the bird shut up. The red-haired man scoffed. "I hate crows," he muttered. Then he turned to the girl who had given him two vulneraries, tried to help him fight, and bandaged him.

"Try not to regret this," he said. "I might just live to fight against you, toots."

**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

First FE fic in a loooong time. It'll be a threeshot, maybe a twoshot, if everything goes as planned. I hope I finish before the deadline.

Please review (or not) as you see fit. Feel free to tell me how I suck at romance and battle scenes or whatever other con crit you'd like to offer.


	2. Chapter 2

The second chapter is here! Yay! Thank you to all the readers and the reviewers!

**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

Grado had a nice castle. Nice sturdy walls, lots of watchtowers, and lots of natural defense. There was a mountain range next to the castle perfect for the wyvern knights it was so famous for, even if those giant lizards were pests. Inside the castle itself, it wasn't too bad. A little old, but with a simple glance it was easy to see that the large structure was built to impress. Overall, Caellach liked Castle Grado. He imagined what the view would be like from the throne. That would be something to look forward to.

"I take it you've been summoned by the emperor as well."

Caellach recognized the voice by its hoarse, rasping lilt. "How nice to see you, Riev," he said. Both of them knew he didn't mean it.

Old. That described Riev pretty well. Caellach has seen old before, but with the priest, the word had a whole new meaning. That man was practically a walking skeleton. Under his moth-eaten robes, he had a hunch the size of a small house and eyes that were fixed in a permanent leer.

"Enjoying your new position as commander?" asked Riev. His eyes glinted. The creepy geezer was always up to something.

Caellach replied, "The pay's a bit better, I suppose."

"Had quite a bit of luck with your career, hm?" The old priest stepped closer. Caellach couldn't see the reason why he'd do that; his physical presence was not intimidating in the least.

"I suppose so."

"Your army's gone through its share of commanders, hm? Three, if I'm not mistaken, and no one saw the attacker in any of the three cases as though someone had simply stabbed them and vanished. Quite unfortunate, especially in a time period as short as five months... And very strange."

The red-haired man crossed his arms and glared down at Riev. "Strange? I don't see how you could possibly find that strange. People die everyday, you realize."

Riev grinned like a cat who had trapped a rat. "But not all of them die from axe wounds in the back, as your predecessors did. Shows the possibility of a traitor, hm? How very curious."

There was a pause, a moment when their eyes met and something intangible and almost benign passed between them.

Finally, Caellach replied, "How very curious indeed."

**ooooo**

Jehanna was a land of white dunes and blazing sun where you'd be hard-pressed to find a single drop of water. No clouds, just blue, blue, and more blue. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen a cloud in Jehanna.

Then again, he hasn't been here for a long time.

"Jehanna sucks," muttered Caellach. It was just his luck to be stuck in a desert on orders from the emperor. There was nothing here but sand. It blew into his eyes, it got into his boots, and the air tasted gritty whenever he opened his mouth. Has the sand ever done anyone any good?

Axe in one hand, Caellach kicked a sleeping soldier who had dozed off in the shade of a cliff. "Get your lazy ass in gear before I chop it off!" he barked.

The soldier, still bleary-eyed, scrambled to his feet and grabbed his sword. "Yes sir!" he shouted. "I'll get my ass in gear, sir!"

Scoffing, Caellach watched him stumble in the direction opposite his post, probably acting on the sleepy fear of a man who knew how to look frightening with an axe. Caellach didn't bother telling him not to wander off. It certainly wouldn't be his fault if the soldier died from his own idiocy.

Behind him, someone spoke in what was probably supposed to be a hushed tone.

"The commander sure is irritable. I'm guessing he doesn't like Jehanna much."

"I think he's probably scared. The last three commanders all bit the dust, y'know? Won't take long 'til it's his turn."

The red-haired man whipped around and pointed his weapon at the two soldiers who had been talking behind his back.

"A word of advice," said Caellach. "I hate gossips. Whisper if you must. Don't assume I'm deaf."

The two soldiers didn't say much and they only nodded their heads, scared to even do that. Caellach grinned in satisfaction.

Maybe sticking tomahawks into their faces wasn't doing much for morale, but hell, standing around and waiting for the Renais twins was boring. Being able to terrorize people made it better. Sometimes, if he really scared them, they'd piss their pants. That was always worth it.

Finally, to the relief of the two unfortunate soldiers, Caellach put his tomahawk away. Without another word, he gathered up his sparse belongings and started to walk away. Then, as an afterthought, he grabbed two vulneraries from a nearby soldier.

"Hey!" he said. "Those are mi--" He looked up to see who had taken his vulneraries. He paled. "Erm... nevermind."

If there was one thing that soldiers were good at, it was recognizing the pecking order.

Caellach glanced back. "I'm leaving," he announced. Slowly, in the same small movements used to avoid provoking dogs, the soldiers nodded. No one seemed to object to his leaving.

The red-haired mercenary figured they didn't have the balls to stop him, not when they thought he could rip a horse in half with his bare hands. That particular rumour wasn't true, but if it kept them in line, he'd tell them he could shoot javelins through his nostrils. Scared men have swallowed taller tales.

"So," he said, "stick to your posts. Be good little soldiers, don't run off to booze or get laid. Try not to get lost and die. If anyone shows up while I'm gone, kill 'em, capture 'em... just do whatever you'd normally do."

Then, he gave them all a toothy grin.

"Don't forget to fight hard for the glory of Grado."

Maybe they caught the sarcasm in that last bit. Maybe they didn't. He turned and left.

For a while, he walked, just to get as fresh a breath of air as was possible in a stuffy desert. If he ever saw another grain of sand again, it would be too soon.

Before joining Grado as a freelancer, Caellach had been part of a mercenary troop. Fight or die. Become strong or die. Food had to be bought with money they rarely had and there was always lots of competition from rival troops. If an employer remembered your name, it was a miracle. Being a mercenary was an uphill battle..

He was near the top now. Hell if he gave a damn about the people he walked over and the toes he had stepped on.

Squinting, Caellach thought he saw something--no, it was just a shadow in the sand. Wait, since when did shadows wear skirts?

It wasn't a trick of the light; it was a blonde girl carrying a lance. Turning her head from side to side and casting glances all around, she seemed to be either searching for something or lost.

Those slender thighs sure seemed familiar.

"Hey!" yelled out Caellach. "What's a girl like you doing in a place like this?"

Startled, the girl noticed him. For some reason, he didn't feel at all surprised to see that she had bright, green eyes or bangs that fell in neat rows across her forehead. Had he met her before?

Quickly, she turned and ran. Caellach raised an eyebrow. The only time girls ran from him like that was when he went after them with his axe. Shrugging the issue aside, he decided to chase after her.

"Hold on! Is there something on my face?"

Whoever she was, she didn't reply. The sun beat down on them, watching a man chase a girl across the dunes. Her footing was horrible and she stumbled more than once. She probably wasn't used to running on sand. Caellach smirked. Newbie.

Before long, he caught up and grabbed her by the shoulder. "Gotcha," he said.

At first, it looked as though she was going to turn around and face him, but she twisted away from his hand. Caellach just watched with mild amusement as she tripped with the next step she took and fell face first into the sand.

Caellach stood behind her and chuckled. She froze, body stiffening in fear like a quivering rabbit. He nudged her in the side with his foot. "Are you watching grass grow down there? You won't have much luck."

He extended his hand towards her. She stared back blankly like the last thing she expected to see was his hand held out to her like he was trying to help. Caellach sighed. "Look, I'm not usually a gentleman. Take my hand and get up before I change my mind."

Slowly, she grabbed his hand. He pulled her up and she dusted herself off. "Thanks," she said quietly.

She wasn't very tall, the top of her head maybe just reaching his chest. He looked down at her, his breath barely reaching her hair. The phantom touch of fingers brushed against his stomach. It dawned on him. "You're the new kid from five months back, Amanda."

"It's Amelia."

"Big difference, they both start with 'a'."

Caellach didn't recall having seen her among the soldiers he commanded. He definitely would've remembered if a little blonde girl like her had been under his command. Definitely.

"Did the king send another regiment?"

Amelia looked startled. "What?"

"Old whats-his-name, Vigarde, did he send another regiment here?"

"Oh..." She gave a slow, tentative nod.

Caellach noted the way she bit her bottom lip and how she avoided eye contact. He didn't really care if she was lying to cover her ass, not when he did it all the time. Maybe he'll ask if he ever feels interested enough.

Caellach pulled out two vulneraries and tossed them at her. "What are these for?" she asked.

"I hate owing people."

"I-I never said you owed me anything."

"You didn't need to. It's the way the world works."

She shoved them back at him and shook her head. "I don't need them."

He sighed. "Listen, you gave me two vulneraries, so I'm giving 'em back. Is that so hard to understand? Take 'em and shut up."

"But I can't!"

"Sure you can."

"But--"

Caellach wouldn't hear it. He just turned on his heel and started walking away. Maybe there was a tavern nearby. He told his soldiers they couldn't drink, but that certainly didn't mean _he_ couldn't have a little fun. He heard her footsteps behind him, soft thuds in the sand.

"Is there a reason you're following a strange man around?" He didn't turn around, just kept on plodding ahead with his eyes fixed on where he was going. Looking back was not a habit of his.

"I... I think it would be all right for me to follow you. You're not as bad as you seem."

He didn't stop walking. Two vulneraries did not constitute an act of goodwill.

"I'm no saint. Only stupid little girls follow me."

The sound of her footfalls didn't stop. If anything, she appeared to have closed the gap behind him, her shadow reaching farther in front of him than it had before.

Suddenly, he stopped and turned around, pulling his tomahawk out as he faced her. She just stood there, as innocent as could be, and stared back at him even though he had few reservations against taking her head off right there and then.

"Stop tempting me. I don't want the sand sticking to my axe when I cover it in your blood."

She didn't budge. "You're not the kind of person to kill without reason," she said.

Caellach scoffed. "What the hell do you know? Why the hell are you even here?"

He started walking again. This time, there were no footsteps of a person following in his wake.

There was no destination in his mind, not when every stretch of sand looked familiar until they blended into one wide expanse of drought and dry winds. His feet took him someplace he didn't recognize, but then he thought that maybe he had been lost from the beginning.

Damn all this sand.

Maybe it had been a bad idea to wander off into the desert. Once, he had tripped over a human skeleton that had been half-buried in the sand. If tripping people with his femur was all he had to look forward to as a lost man, he would have brought a map or something. Maybe that Amanda girl had one.

"Hey! You got a map?"

She wasn't there. Caellach looked around a little more and frowned. Well, he has gotten out of tougher spots. He did not go all this way just to die of dehydration, that was for sure. Trudging along, he tried retracing his steps back to his squad of soldiers. Then, he slowed to a stop.

Before Caellach had even turned around, he already noticed a presence behind him.

"If it isn't ol' Caellach," said Joshua. He tipped his hat to the axe fighter, his faint smile shadowed by the brim.

"Small world," said Caellach, turning to face Josua with a smirk. "How's the gambling thing working out for you?"

If there was one thing he learned from his time fighting with Joshua, it was how quickly the swordsman made bets he couldn't win. It wasn't the worst way to make money; a lucky man could take what little he had and become several times richer in the blink of an eye, but if Joshua's frequently empty pockets were any indication, he wasn't very lucky.

"Good, good. Heard you joined up with Grado," said Joshua.

"Yep. You know me, I like to join the winning side, make a name for myself instead of dying like a dog. No fun being on the losing side."

"Hate to do this to an old comrade, but I'm with Renais now." Joshua unsheathed his sword. "I need to make you pay."

Caellach raised an eyebrow. "You mean for killing your mother? A man has to find a few stepping stones if he wants to be king. It was nothing personal."

"Fuck you."

All hints of a smile were gone from Joshua's face. There was only the steel of his sword glinting in the sun.

Caellach drew his axe. "The little Joshua I remember didn't talk like that, 'specially not to an old friend."

"You killed my her just to further your selfish little ambitions. You thought I wouldn't mind, _old friend_?"

"I'll do whatever it takes to climb to the top. Mommy happened to make a good ladder, _old friend_."

Steel flashed in the blazing desert sun. Each strike was parried by the foe, each clang a sharp sound that reverbrated through the fighters' bodies.The sword and axe intertwined, stuck fast as though they were grappling with one another.

"Not bad, Joshua, not bad at all. You're not a brat anymore, that's for sure."

"Shut up," hissed Joshua through gritted teeth. "I'm not here to hear you talk."

As soon as their weapons came free, they clashed again, and again and again. Caellach frowned. There was a time when he could've beat Joshua without breaking a sweat, but it seemed the tables had turned on the mercenary. It didn't help that axes were a heck of a lot slower than swords. If nothing else, Joshua was fast.

Acting quickly, Caellach kicked at Joshua's legs. The swordsman fell, but the axe hit only sand when he rolled away and got on his feet without skipping a beat. Caellach cursed. Joshua saw his chance.

"I win this time."

If he hadn't known any better, Caellach would've thought it was just the breeze, but no, breezes don't impale men. He looked down and saw the hilt of Joshua's sword sticking out of his body like an ominous flag. In spite of himself and the injury, he grinned.

"Right through the left lower torso.. the spot where I struck Mommy."

"The very same."

Caellach knew he would not die quickly from that wound. He bet Joshua knew this as well. Speaking took effort, but he managed.

"Does revenge taste as sweet as they say?"

There was no reply. Joshua left to avert his eyes from the death of a man he once called comrade. Behind him, Caellach knelt to the ground even as he fought against the forces that would have him bow his head to death.

**ooooo**

_It was over._

_No one made a sound. Death's requiem was the silence of unmoving lips and cold, still hearts._

_It was just him now, just one man in a field littered with corpses the same way the forest ground was littered with dead leaves. In a forest, it was only natural that the leaves fall. On the battlefield, it was only natural that people die._

_He hadn't won, but he hadn't lost either. He learned that it couldn't really be called losing if he was still alive._

_He walked to a tree and laid his back against it, letting his aching joints rest. Crows circled the sky in lazy drifts. They had it easy, he decided. They didn't have to risk life and limb for a little food. The work was done for them._

_He stared out into the field. A crow picked at the flesh of one of the bodies. He recognized him. He had been one of the troop, one of the boys. _

_Yesterday, they had all been rejoicing around the fire because they found a high-paying job that would've kept them fed for at least two weeks, long enough to find another job before their money ran out. _

_Well, now everyone was dead. Funny how that happened so quickly._

_The crow pecked and scissored away at the flesh with its black beak. It tore off a chunk of flesh and greedily swallowed it as it gulped several times to force the morsel down its throat. Stuipid bird. If it hadn't been so greedy it could've eaten its meal bit by bit instead of cramming it all down its throat. Caellach hoped it choked._

_They had all worked hard to put meat on their bones. And for what? Was this all it had amounted to? All their hard work at staying alive and trying to make a decent living, reduced to the contents of a scavenger's stomach?_

_He stood up from the tree. He didn't know how long he had been holding his axe in his hand, but that didn't matter much. Suddenly, there was loud cawing. The crows flew away from his wild swings. Their squawking filled the air, cawing, cawing, never giving it a rest. He didn't stop swinging his axe until every single corpse was free of crows._

_"I hate crows," he muttered._

**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

You know what Caellach's moniker makes me think of? The song, "Eye of the Tiger".

Props to SpeedDemon315 for thinking up the challenge. I never would've thought that Caellach would be so fun to write. The last chapter might take a while because I've got schoolwork. I hope no one minds waiting.

Please review (or not) as you see fit.


	3. Chapter 3

**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

_They came and stained the night red with fire and blood. Bandits one and all, they torched homes, killed innocents, and hunted down their victims through burning streets that roared with fire. From where she lay underneath the bed, scared and trembling, Amelia could hear dying screams cut short by the swing of the axe. She squeezed her eyes shut and covered her ears, trying to make it go away._

_An hour ago, she had been sitting on her mother's lap as she listened to a bedtime story. Amelia had heard all the stories so many times she could recite them by memory, but she would still ask her mother to tell her a story just so she could hear her voice. Some time after the second pig's house of sticks collapsed, Amelia fell asleep in the warmth of her mother's embrace._

_She woke up under the bed with the blanket cushioning her body from the hard ground as the chaos outside her door erupted in screams and blazes. From under her bed she could see that the dresser, table, and chairs had been overturned in some sort of struggle. Her mother was gone._

_Morning came and the bandits left with the night. Amelia crawled out from under the bed, thankful that her home had somehow withstood the fires. All around her were survivors examining the wreckage, seeing if there was anything that had not been burnt to a crisp. There were piles and piles of rubble to search through, but it was worth it if they could find just one thing to salvage._

_As they tried to save what little they could, they passed by bodies that littered the streets like rag dolls, limp and lifeless, and everyone averted their eyes from the mothers who sobbed into the bodies of children and brothers who cradled their sisters' hands._

_The job came with the short straw, but the body count had to be established and they had to figure out who was dead and who wasn't. One by one, bodies were laid down side by side on the ground. A white cloth covered each one, a bit of dignity for the dead._

_While the men dug holes, Amelia searched the line of white-clothed bodies, her heart skipping a beat every time she lifted a cloth, scared that the next pale face she looked into would be her mother's._

_Someone took hold of her shoulder. He turned her around and said, "Your mother isn't there."_

_Amelia sighed in relief and smiled. "Really? Where is she?"_

_He didn't reply at first and he wouldn't look her in the eye. Finally, staring at the ground, he said, "We couldn't find her. The bandits--they must have taken her with them. I'm sorry."_

_Her smile slid off her face like an oiled rag. The air felt cold against her skin as goose bumps raced their way up her bare arms, fingers locked in shaking fists. The world dissolved into masses of grey clouds and brown mud as tears ran down her cheeks._

_Amelia shook her head frantically. "No, that can't... that can't be true..." _

_She lurched forward, stumbling over uneven ground that she couldn't see, and grabbed the man's collar. She looked up into a face with two blotches of what may have been eyes and demanded, "Where are they? Tell me where the bandits went!"_

_Two hands took hers in a soft grasp. "Listen, Amelia, they've left this place for good. Your mother is... is gone. You have to accept that--"_

_"No!" she screamed. "No, no, no!" Hair stung her skin from the force of her head whipping side to side. Wet eyes squeezed shut, she wrenched herself away from him. "Stop it!" she sobbed. "Don't say that! I'll go save her--I'll fight them if I have to!"_

_Amelia turned in some vague direction and started running. If she searched hard enough and she tried hard enough, she would find her mother. Somewhere out there, her mother was waiting, waiting to be freed from her captors._

_A pair of arms encircled her from behind. She kicked and thrashed against them. "Let me go!" she cried._

_"She's gone," he said quietly. "There's nothing you can do for her."_

_Slowly, the strength flowed out of her. In the end, Amelia let herself sob in his arms. Grey and brown mixed into the ugliest colour she had ever seen._

**ooooo**

Amelia fingered the two vulneraries in her pouch and found herself wandering in the direction Caellach had headed towards. She tried to believe her feet had picked a direction at random. Coincidences happen, she told herself.

Not for the first time, Amelia wished she hadn't gotten lost. There had to be someone out there who could help, preferably a comrade who wasn't as lost as she was. Perhaps it hadn't been a good idea to wander off alone into the desert. Then she wouldn't be following after the enemy.

Except that she wasn't following him.

When she saw a man, staggering through a haze of sandy breezes on legs that seemed unfit for walking, she dismissed it as a product of the same over-imaginative part of her silly mind that insisted there was more to it than a simple coincidence. She thought it would be harder to run into the same person twice in a desert--especially if you had no intention of following said person. Then the man collapsed in the sand and Amelia acted on an instinct she didn't know she had.

"Caellach!" she called out as she ran. Amelia reached him and took in the sight of a dark stain spreading through the back of his shirt. He laid face-down in the sand so she grabbed at the shoulder opposite her and pulled to try and flip him over.

"Dammid, lemme alone," he muttered with his voice muffled by the sand.

"Get up," pleaded Amelia as she shook him.

Groaning, Caellach rolled over. "Whozzat?" he said as he put a hand to his head to block the sun from his eyes. Amelia watched him stare into her face and smirk.

"We keep on running into each other," commented Caellach with half-lidded eyes. "Come here often?"

"I don't think this is the time," said Amelia with a sideways glance at his wound. "Can you walk?"

He grinned at her. "Depends. If I say no, would you kiss it better?"

Amelia nearly rolled her eyes. "This really isn't the time." She reached towards him. "Let me help you. That looks bad."

Caellach sat up, wincing as he cradled his wound. He leaned away from her outstretched fingers, blood crusted at the corners of his mouth. "What are you trying to pull?" he demanded.

Amelia withdrew her hand and looked into his narrowed eyes. "What do you mean?" she asked.

The mercenary struggled to his feet. His hand clutched at the hole in his shirt and the fabric bunched together in a mess of sand and clotted blood. Chest rising and falling with laboured breaths, Caellach glared at her. "This isn't your problem."

Amelia stood there and watched him get up and stumble away in tattered boots. She could see his hair, unkempt and windswept, pressed against his scalp with sweat. His shoulders were slumped under their own weight and he walked with a stagger that threatened to turn him on his head. Before his crooked path of footprints could lead him out of sight, Amelia ran after him.

"Let me help you," she insisted, reaching out towards him. Caellach slapped her hand away again.

"Take a hint," he hissed. "Take a damn hint."

"I can help you," she insisted again.

"Give up," groaned Caellach in exasperation.

Amelia shook her head. "No."

There was no reply this time. Maybe he had finally relented. Then, just to prove her wrong, Caellach hobbled away as quickly as he could manage. Amelia easily caught up. He grimaced, gripping his wound tightly as he tried to speed up.

"You stick to me closer than a gold digger sticks to a balding rich man," he said through gritted teeth.

"I just want to help!"

Suddenly, he turned back and grabbed her wrist in a vice-like grip, shooting pain up her arm. "You wanna watch me die, is that it?" accused Caellach. His chest heaved up and down; whether it was from fatigue or anger she couldn't say. "Get lost," he said. "This isn't a street show."

Her skin had gone red and sore from his grip, but Amelia didn't try to pull herself away. Instead, she looked up at him and quietly said, "Please let me help you."

His voice lowered into a growl. "Help me? Yeah right."

"Please," she said, gaze never wavering from his.

Caellach stared back at her, breathing heavily. The hardened glare fell away from his face, replaced by tired eyes and a look of self-doubt as if he couldn't quite believe what he was about to do next. Slowly, his grip loosened and he fell backwards into the sand. Caellach laid there and closed his eyes.

"Just... do what you will."

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Amelia knelt beside him.

**ooooo**

Caellach could feel her fingers massaging the contents of the vulnerary into his wound. He laid back on his shirt, a filthy piece of torn fabric spread out on the sand. He didn't consider complaining; there were worse beds to be had.

Above him, the sky spun in a swirl of blazing white and clear blue. He could see the black shadows of vultures drifting in circles with wings lazily outstretched as if they had all the time in the world to wait for their next meal. Caellach groaned and tried to keep his head from spinning along with the rest of the damn sky.

"Are you all right?" she asked. Of course she's concerned.

"Worry about yourself," he said as he rubbed his temples, "You know how easy it would be for someone to take advantage of you?" The colour blue was dancing across his vision and knocking him silly. If only he weren't so light-headed, the whole thing would be a heck of a lot more bearable.

"I'm doing this of my own free will."

"Of course," replied Caellach. After rolling his eyes, he turned and looked at the first vulnerary bottle, the one that had already been used. It laid empty in the sand. He remembered when he had given those to her to repay his debt, as he had called it. Screw irony.

Caellach could feel the sands shifting as she squirmed and her fingers tensed over his raw skin.

"Spit it out," he said.

"I-I'm just wondering what happened."

He smirked. "You mean you're wondering why I'm dying?"

"I..." Her mouth simply opened and closed.

"Please. We both know it's a fatal wound. The entire continent's supply of vulnerary can't fix me, girl."

Silence reigned the air. He could feel her bloodied fingers brushing wispy paths across his raw skin. Caellach looked up into her face, but she avoided his gaze. What did she see in a dying man's eyes? He sighed. She practically jumped away at the sound.

"S-sorry!" stammered Amelia. "Did I hurt you? Are you all right? I wasn't too rough, was I?"

When he got his mind around what she just said, Caellach burst out laughing. Unbelievable. It had to be some big, cosmic joke. Just when he thought he had his share of laughter, it just kept on pouring out of him. He was practically in hysterics before his throat became hoarse and his lungs became strained. The girl merely watched, frozen with indecision as to what she should do.

"I'm sorry," he rasped as he wiped a tear away from the corner of his eye, "were you asking if I was in pain? It's not going to matter much longer, toots. There's nothing you can do for me."

"No!" she blurted. Caellach winced slightly as her fingers pushed harder into him. Immediately, she took her weight off of him. "S-sorry," stammered the girl.

"Been through worse," said Caellach. The sky blurred until the shadows of the vultures disappeared into the clouds. It wasn't going to take much longer.

Caellach grinned and looked up at her face. Blond strands were blurred until they were indistinct and her nose almost disappeared amidst the shadows of her face, but her eyes were surprisingly clear and in focus. "You fallen for my irresistible charm or somethin'? Can't bear to see me go?"

Even with his failing eyesight, he could see her cheeks take on a pink tint. "That's not it," she whispered.

Caellach barked out a harsh laugh that left him panting. "Quit the army, kid. If you can't watch a man die, you're better off knitting."

"I had to at least try," she said. "To save you."

"You've got some sense of humour, kid."

A strange comfortable feeling set in. From the moment he had pulled the sword out of his body, the wound in his body sent jolts of pain through him with every small movement. It had taken a while to get used to, but before long, the pain was little more than a sensitive ache. Now the ache was gone and an unnatural numbness replaced it. Caellach felt pressure on his hand and looked to see the girl holding it. She quietly asked, "Is there anything you want?"

Somewhere far away above him, Caellach heard a vulture's call. They were waiting for their feast and they would leave behind a pile of bare bones. Nothing of the man who had sweat and toiled would remain. He'd be back where he started--in a desert with nothing.

Caellach took one last look into her eyes and closed his. "Get me out of here."

Slowly, his world faded to nothing until he couldn't feel anything but her hands wrapped around his. Eventually, that disappeared as well. It suddenly dawned on him that he never got to be king. His years of sweating, killing, surviving--all wasted.

Fuck.

**ooooo**

Amelia watched the fire flicker against the darkness of night. She never knew she could miss greenery so much. Tonight, everyone was celebrating the reunion of the twins and gratefully accepting the chance to rest before attempting to take back Castle Renais. All around her, the soldiers were drinking, eating, and laughing.

"Amelia! What are you doing all alone?"

The girl turned to see Neimi sitting down next to her on the log. Her eyes were reddened as they often were but her smile was anything but downtrodden. Amelia had always admired her ability to bounce back.

"I guess I'm not in the mood," admitted Amelia.

Neimi shuffled over until the two girls' shoulders touched. "Come on, Amelia. We've defeated an enemy commander. Loosen up and have a little fun!"

Amelia flinched. Neimi looked over, concerned. "What's wrong?" asked the archer with a note of panic in her voice. "Are you feeling unwell? Is there something bothering you? Oh no, it's something I said, isn't it, I'm sorry, I don't know what I said wrong but I'll make it up to you and I'll promise I won't ever say it again, I didn't mean to, please don't be sad--"

"It's okay," said Amelia as soon as she could get a word in edgewise. "You don't need to apologize."

She looked around. Someone was dancing on a tabletop without a shirt, protably a man who would later wake up with a terrible hangover. Others were busy talking and eating with comrades. All the knights had shed their armour to relax from their usual duties. Amelia spotted Colm sulking behind a tent as he stood around in bare feet. Whether or not his boots had been somehow mysteriously misplaced was anybody's guess.

"Colm looks pretty down," commented Amelia as she gestured toward the thief.

Neimi turned to look in the same direction, her brow furrowed in worry. Her eyes seemed redder too as if the thought of the thief being sad somehow stimulated her tear ducts. "I'll go see what's wrong," said the archer.

Neimi left to talk to the thief, perhaps lend him an extra pair of boots. Quietly, Amelia got up from her seat and slipped away towards the stables. She took a horse and headed for the desert. An hour or two later, she returned tired and dusty with nothing to show for it but a man-sized bundle secured to the saddle of the horse she led by the reins.

Amelia had to convince herself to think of the bundle as a cache of supplies wrapped up in brown cloth. If anyone asked, the large discoloured spot was not a bloodstain. She had dropped it in the mud, that was all.

Before long, Amelia reached a clearing in the forest. Taking a shovel from the horse, she began digging. It was surprising how much stronger she had become since joining the army. Digging the hole was hard, sweaty work but Amelia managed it better than she thought she would.

Under the cover of darkness, she dragged his body off the horse. It fell to the bottom with a loud thud. Before long, the hole was filled and she was left staring at a patch of upturned earth with a plank of wood nearby. Somehow, it felt wrong to leave his grave unmarked.

Maybe it could say... what could it say? Man who flirted at the most inappropriate of times? Man who would have laid siege to Jehanna until she lay before him like a beaten dog? Loving husband, reliable father, helpful brother, loyal friend--as far as she knew, none of the typical labels fit. If someone chanced upon his grave, what should it tell them of the man buried there?

Amelia hesitated a moment before she started carving words out into the plank of wood.

_Caellach Tiger Eye. Man of great ambitions._

And maybe that would be enough.

**...**

**..**

**.**

_**FIN**_

**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

The last chapter took a while, but here it is, my little three-chaptered story for the world/FE community to scrutinize. It's not very organized. I probably should've written all three chapters before posting them. I think I tried to cram too much into the last chapter. Waurgh.

If you ever wondered what the heck is up with the title, I'll just leave it up to your interpretation. I had an idea, but somewhere along the way, it kind of... died.

Please review (or not) as you see fit. I'd appreciate your opinion, your crit and your thoughts. Thank you to all the readers and reviewers who have read the story! Your support is much appreciated!


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